You Didn't Forget
by Hold-Your-Hippogriffs
Summary: Just a little one shot I wrote instead of doing homework. PostHogwarts. HBP SPOILER! RHr.


**You Didn't Forget**

**Disclaimer** Harry Potter and all related characters and/or themes belong to the lovely JK Rowling.

**Author's Note** So, just a little one shot I did yesterday afternoon when I really should have been doing my homework (which I had to end up staying up til midnight finishing). The idea came to me while I was working on my American History homework... and just wouldn't rest, even when I wrote a quick outline for it. So, I had to delay my Psychology work and write this instead. I pictured it a bit better in my head... and don't think I did it much justice in writing, but I'm still kind of proud of it. It's kind of sad, and I apologize for that... but... that's just the way it goes. Enjoy!

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Traffic infuriated her. She did not have the patience for the afternoon rush. It was obvious she spent more time behind the wheel than she did anywhere else. She knew it was foolish, paying the ridiculous gas prices and wasting valuable time, when she could just as easily Floo or Apparate to her destination. But, although impatient, she was more than willing to waste her time and money if it meant she could avoid any magical transportation. 

The war had soured her views on magic. What once was a fascinating world, a fascinating subject, was only a bitter memory in her mind now. The world that she had devoted her life to at the age of eleven just as quickly turned its back on her, and she had no choice but to do the same. To stay bought more pain to her already shattered heart and she simply couldn't take it.

When the war finally ended, it took not only her friends and family, but her very heart and soul. Although not physically dead, she was nothing more than a walking corpse. Everything else had died that night. Her heart no longer seemed capable of love, of any emotion at all. Her mind, though fully functional, made decisions on its own, never requiring her to really think. But think she did.

The memories haunted her. They played over and over again in her head, like a never-ending story. There was no stop, pause, or fast-forward buttons. The play button was constantly in use, the rewind coming in when needed. And, boy, was it needed. Sometimes she replayed certain memories on purpose; the ones that, even though shadowed with doom, had some spark of happiness and hope in them. Others were replayed against her will. No matter how many times she tried to shake them away, they remained.

Believing it was for the better, she had left the wizarding world after the war. She wasn't gone from it entirely. Almost her entire education was based in the magical world, making it impossible to find work in the muggle one. Because it would have been illogical to continue her muggle education when she was eighteen, she was forced to take a small desk job at the Ministry of Magic. The job suited her just fine, though, besides the fact she was reminded everyday of the things taken from her. There was minimal contact with her co-workers and she wasn't required to stay more than a couple of hours a day. And, after the workday even, she was back in her car, ready to head away from her past.

The traffic move slightly forward, and she followed behind the car in front of her. Her eyes were focused on the back of the car, the right corner, where the blue paint was chipping. She vaguely heard the music playing on the radio, choosing to listen to the music coming from another memory inside her head. It was of the Valentine's Ball in her seventh year. She smiled slightly as she remembered how nervous he had been when he had asked her to be his date. She had giggled and accepted his offer with a blush. It had been the best decision she had ever made, she thought. And as she recalled the memory of dancing in his arms, she could almost feel him holding her again.

_"I love you," _he had said. It surprised her, to hear him say those words, when they weren't even dating, but it had seemed so natural, so right, that she had no trouble saying them back. She could picture his smile, lighting up the entire of the Great Hall, when she had stood on her tiptoes and lain a gentle kiss upon his lips. The goofy grin was plastered ear to ear, his expression dazed, until he seemed to realize the reality of the situation and kissed her back.

Their first real kiss. How special it had been. She knew she would never forget that moment. Her only regret was that they weren't able to share many more after that. And she blamed herself. If only she hadn't been so hell-bent on studying for her N.E.W.T.s. If only she had realized time was precious, and given in when he would affectionately kiss her neck, trying to coax her into taking a break. _If only_. She had come to hate those words.

She flipped on the turn signal, hoping to switch lanes. The left lane looked like it was moving so much faster, and she was particularly anxious to get home and drown her sorrows in a large glass of wine. Maybe two, if the cars moved any slower. She tuned out the announcer's voice, as he began the afternoon traffic report. _Yeah, yeah, we know it's not moving_, she thought. Another memory was slowly coming to surface.

It had been his birthday, yet he had given her a present. He had said the next holiday was too far off and he wanted her to have it. The present in question was a simple diamond promise ring, which she wore on her left hand. As the memory presented itself, she unconsciously fingered the silver band, running her index finger over the tiny stone. _"It's too much,"_ she'd told him. _"Nonsense,"_ he'd replied, slipping it onto her delicate finger. She hadn't taken it off since.

She had been wrong. Traffic wasn't moving any faster in the left lane, and she really should have been in the right. Irritated, she turned on the right blinker, and started forward, turning her wheel ever so slightly. If she moved fast enough, she could squeeze in between the two cars before the guy behind her noticed. Her foot tapped the brake when she saw the guy start forward in her mirror. _No, _she thought_, I'm getting over_. The guy had other plans. His foot slammed the gas pedal at the same time hers did, causing him to smash into her back bummer. She had neglected her seatbelt, and she hit the steering wheel hard. The impact of the collision startled her, and in her shock, her foot stayed on the gas, slamming into the person in front of her. The car was spinning now and she tried to stop. Her legs shaking, she found the brake, slammed on it. The car came to an abrupt stop, but traffic was moving, and another driver, who had not been paying attention, collided with the side of her car. Her side. The car was smashed now, crushing her inside. Her right side was numb, and she could feel the blood trickling down from her forehead onto her eyelid.

More memories flashed inside her mind, but this time they were far from happy. She was suddenly reliving the most horrid events of her life. Watching her cousin drown when she was seven… the events in her first year… the Department of Mysteries… Professor Dumbledore's funeral… losing her parents… and finally… finally, seeing him die…

He had died saving her. The Death Eater was aimed and ready, the indication already out of his mouth when Ron jumped in front of her, taking the curse himself. _"NO!"_ she had shouted. She remembered someone from the Order killing the Death Eater as she ran forward. She fell to her knees, took him into her arms. _"No," _she'd sobbed, _"no, you can't be dead. Wake up, Ron, please. I love you. Please."_ She had pleaded with him for a good minute before she had finally dropped his body and fell upon his chest. She had cried there, for hours, she thought, until the fighting had stopped and someone had found her. But, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

In her semi-conscious state, she heard someone yell.

"There's another one over here, Dave."

"Is she alive?" the other one, Dave, called.

"Dunno." She felt a hand on her wrist, checking her pulse. "Barely," the man muttered. Louder, he yelled, "Come and help me." Four arms were around her then, pulling her through the broken window. "Think she'll make it?"

"We have to try."

She ignored the voices now, too involved in her memories. She was trying to focus on the last kiss she and Ron had shared. It had been a desperate, hungry kiss, full of passion and fear. They had shared it in the Entrance Hall, with others running past them, some going to fight, others to hide.

_"You remember that I'll always love you,"_ he had said, meeting her lips once more.

_"Oh, Ron. I love you, too."_

_"And this isn't goodbye, you hear?"_

_"No. No, it's not. We'll be together again soon. Be safe," she'd told him. And he'd promised he would._

He had kissed her one last time and squeezed her hand. _"Don't forget," _had been his last words to her. _"Don't forget I'll always love you."_

_She thought she was lying on the pavement, but she couldn't be sure. More shouting, and her head was pounding. She tried to open her eyes, bring her hand to her forehead, but found she couldn't. It hurt too much to even twitch her arm. Oh, God, she thought, I'm dying. She couldn't understand why this bothered her so. Hadn't she been saying for the past two years that she'd rather be dead? Dead, then living an empty life. But, with the possibility of it, she knew she couldn't. It really couldn't be time._

Her thoughts drifted to the only two people she still kept much contact with. Harry and Ginny. She wasn't ready to leave them. There was so much left unsaid. So much she hadn't told them. She couldn't miss their wedding, the birth of their first child. She _had_ to be there. _Had_ to. She fought to regain full consciousness. Tried to move, call for help. She had never felt so torn in her life.

The memories were flashing by again. She didn't have time to focus on one before another came into focus. Her life before Hogwarts, her life before Ron, her life before true love. And then, her life after. And, finally, the minutes before the crash. How careless she had been, how foolish. She had to fight; she had to live.

But there was something holding her back. It was distressing, not knowing what it was. The last memory, the one of hitting her head, faded into white. She noticed a figure, walking, coming closer. She concentrated on this figure, concentrated on it coming closer. But, it was moving so slowly, she almost lost interest. And, finally, she saw a hand. A hand reaching out for her.

"You didn't forget," a voice said.

"Ron," she choked out.

"You never forgot," he replied, coming into clear view. He was smiling in his white robes, his red hair messy as always. His hand was still outstretched and he indicated for her to take it. "Don't be afraid."

"I'm not," she insisted. She stuck out her hand, making contact with Ron's. It sent a chill down her spine and her hand twitched. Ron interlaced her fingers with his and smiled.

"I've been waiting for you," he said. "It's your time."

"My time?" she asked, confused.

"To die. We all have one. I've been waiting, sometimes patiently, sometimes not, for it to be yours. I suppose you could say I've been selfish, wanting you to die. But, I couldn't be without you." She gave a weak smile.

"It's been hard."

"Yes," Ron agreed, "it has." He pulled her close, kissed her head. "I've missed you." She tilted her head up and kissed his lips softly.

"I've missed you, too."

"I knew you would never forget."

"How could I?" He smiled knowingly.

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Ron."

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The paramedic was bewildered. He knew, he could have sworn, he saw the woman twitch, put her hand out. He had run toward her, grabbed her wrist. But, the faint pulse that had been there before was gone. He looked to her pretty face, saw the sad look. In all the years he had done his job, it always broke his heart to see someone die. He started to stand, but again, he saw her arm move. He knelt down, not sure if he was seeing things or not. After all, it had been a long night. He almost fell backwards when he heard her speak. 

"I love you, too, Ron." He had had to be hearing things. _Knew _he had to be hearing things. But when he looked into her lifeless face once more, there was no denying what had once been a frown was now a smile.

Not one muggle had been able to explain how or why Hermione Granger had died with a smile on her face, a smile that had appeared _after_ she had died, but to the wizards and witches of the magical community, they knew she had been reunited with her love at last.

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**The End**

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**Author's Note** Please review! It will make my day. (Since technology seems to hate me and I'm frustrated.) 


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